One of the many great things about living where I live in Lewes in the UK, is the annual Bonfire celebrations – the largest in Europe and, with its anarchic fervour, also the most fun. I don’t have to go out to see the giant processions though – it comes to me and processes in front of my house lighting it up with its fiery torches and wickedly exploding fireworks.

I live in the area belonging last night to our local Bonfire society, Commercial Square Bonfire Society, whose yellow and black smugglers’ uniforms bring our street alive every November the Fifth, Britain’s traditional Fireworks Night.

November the Fifth in Lewes isn’t anything like the wonderful Spring Festival in China that I visited a few years ago where the emphasis was on the magnificence of the fireworks and the spirit of celebrating the new season of rebirth. Lewes Bonfire is an anarchist celebration that defies police disapproval, do-gooders’ safety warnings and, best of all, authority figures of church and state. The marchers dress up  as smugglers and pioneers who have been repressed but remained defiant over the centuries. The Commercial Square Bonfire Society has recognised the suffering of Native Americans since 1855 and many of the marchers dress to remember them.

For years the police have tried to ban the fireworks from the streets but the Bonfire Societies continue to flaunt their warnings and, in the best possible way, p;rove to be unpoliceable. These days, the visible police presence is low and wise enough to let the event police itself.

So here are some photographs of the event as it unfolded in front of my house – it was, as usual, terrific. Look out for those X Men – they had an honourable place here too.

Next day, in true anarchist style, everything had been cleared up and you would never guess that chaos reigned here only hours ago.

The post Lewes Bonfire and Lewes’ celebration of anarchy appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

My elder brother, Graham, died at his home in Sussex two days ago with all of us, his family, around him. He was a big personality – my main childhood companion and the source of much laughter, entertainment and adventure in our adult lives. He was an insurance broker mostly at Lloyds in the city of London, a profession which he loved because it was the perfect vehicle for his, the sharpest of brains that liked nothing better than making a good deal except maybe indulging in rollicking good fun and camaraderie that went along with life, especially at lunchtime, in the City. He was, of course, much more than that. Ultimately he was the family man personified and all of us who were lucky enough to be part of that privileged circle were never allowed to forget that we were of central importance to his life. He had the wildest of natures – always prepared to take that extra step whether it was one of the many outrageous pranks when we were children or, really still unchanged, when we survived one of the many “sessions” when we were supposed to have “grown up” long ago. Anyone who has ever accused me of being loud or extrovert hadn’t met my brother.  His wildness was married to a hidden sensitivity and a giant capacity for love, it also gave him true courage and sheer guts when it came to life and, much too early, when he had to face the brutal and unrelenting disease that led to a cruel death from the unkindest of cancers. It was typical of him that in his final months, he decided to do something that he had always wanted to do – ride a motorbike – so he bought one, had a course of lessons and rode it around town even though his body was already showing those dreadful signs of cancer.  Life was always full of life as far as he was concerned.

It was great that such a loving person was surrounded by love when he was dying and totally appropriate that such a big person should pass on that noisiest and most explosive of days – the Fifth of November, here in England, fireworks night. We were able to mark his passing not only with much sadness but with a lot of whiskey before we all lit fireworks, the noisiest and brightest ones we could find, and sent them soaring into space. We will all miss him for sure but then no one who knew him will ever forget him.

The post My brother, Graham Bell, died on Fireworks Night – very sad but explosively appropriate. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.